Chapter Seven
Jonathan returned late that day. Or, at least, it felt late. I had no concept of time where I was, so it could have been earlier than usual for all I knew, but it sure felt late. He arrived with his head hung low, his hands empty save for a pair of black gloves bunched between them. He made no attempt to look at me or speak to me, just closed the door behind him, fell against it, and slid into a seated position on the floor.
“Do they suspect I’m here?” I asked immediately.
Jonathan shook his head, though I didn’t think that it was supposed to be an answer. With his eyes closed, he rubbed his face in his large, white hands before saying, “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. They’re so cryptic, speaking in their riddles. I don’t think they know anything, but they’ve certainly n
